


The Dance of the Dragons

by LadyStark1108



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2018-11-03 23:25:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10977573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyStark1108/pseuds/LadyStark1108





	1. Long Live the King

**GREETINGS READERS!! Welcome to a brand new ASOIAF fanfic and it’s a drag back in time to the Dance of Dragons. Take a seat, grab your spectacles, and read away… Hope you enjoy and comment and tell me what you think. X**

  
Alicent:

  
“King Viserys grows weaker by the hour your Grace. Servants say he won’t even sit on the Iron Throne. Perhaps it’s best we send ravens to Dragonstone, prepare Princess Rhaenyra for what is to come.”

  
Maester Orwyle seemed to enjoy bothering Alicent, she thought. Dusk had come and she was brought with coronation preparations for her dear stepdaughter. “As long as your King lives and breaths, he is our King. I assure your Grand Maester, only grief will be brought to Rhaenyra arriving with her court.

  
Alicent would jump from the cliffs of the Red Keep if she would invite them by choice. Rhaenyra’s Strong bastards alone would disrupt the castle with blood and chaos. The only proof she needed was a look at her son Aemond and his broken face.

  
“Yes, but an heir is an heir. It would be best if we-“ She shushed the old man into silence. The rise of her lips soothed his troubles, but truly she just wanted to end the discussion of her husband’s choice of successor.

  
All would be simple if “The Realm’s Delight” was just swept away with the tides. Through the years of Targaryen reign, a son came before a daughter. Alicent looked back at Aemma Arryn, weak and useless only to bring the stress of a daughter into the world.

  
She looked at herself, Viserys’ Queen, and her duties done as wife, her sons were born. Still, all she can do is watch her son’s birth rights be ripped away to a daughter and three of her bastards.

  
“My husband needs his rest, as do the rest of us. Another time when the King’s is ready. If we are done here, seven blessing Grand Maester.” Oh the joys of being a noble woman, she thought. Having to say all the perfect words, instead of how she truly felt.

 

 

 

Silver, for once Alicent had the looks of a Targaryen but in the wrong ways. When she loosened the tight braid wrapped around her scalp, more grey fell back to her shoulders. She hated looking at them, but she began to see more grey than brown.

  
When she looked at her reflection, she saw an old woman losing all she had built. She once remembered a girl who’s unblemished skin and warm smile could swoon over any man. Now she saw her face begin to sag, her eyes wrinkled in it’s corners, and hands wrinkled and veins popping out around her emerald rings.

  
Alicent almost jumped when she heard the tiny knock to enter her room. Quickly she pulled her hair back and pulled open the large door handles to greet them.

  
When she turned back, of course she saw two sets of feet come tumbling across the room. A chubby set of legs waddled across the room joining them. Behind them, Helaena followed them in with a smile across her plump face.

Of all her children, her daughter’s sweetness was almost pure. Alicent had no idea where she had gotten it from. With Helaena, it was brought down to her children as well. She could see it made in their faces.

  
“They’ve come to say goodnight to their grandmother.” Helaena greeted her. When they ran to meet her, Alicent stretched her arms to catch them. She caught ahold of Jaehaerys first and held his hands tightly.

  
“I see most of my lovely family has come, but what of my son? Where is Aegon?” She knew the answer already before Helaena spoke. She lifted Maelor up from the carpets letting him on her lap. He played with Alicent’s rings twisting them as she waited for her daughter’s answer.

  
“Somewhere. He comes when forced to, we don’t need him now.” Helaena spoke calmly, distracting herself with her children. Her daughter has come to be a dutiful wife, Alicent thought.

  
Alicent twirled through Jaehaera’s long hair as her granddaughter sat silent, no smiles or giggles like her siblings. She wondered, but never spoke aloud of the simpleton signs she carried.

  
“We came to see father as well, See Criston stopped us at the door. He spoke of the Maesters coming to help him sleep. I suppose ships from Dragonstone will be arriving soon?” Her daughter was almost as clever as herself, Alicent thought. Clever she was, but the world only needed one of them.

  
She clasped the hands of her daughter, smiling at the thought. Her lips dropped down to a persistent look ushering them away. “The children are tired. You’ve spent well enough time, we all need our rest.”

  
Helaena sighed putting Maelor on her hip as she tugged the twins’ hands as they shut her door. She sighed pressing her fingers to her temple.

  
She laid back against the leathers of her chair, Alicent closed her eyes to stop her head from pounding. For just a moment, she forgot about them all.  
Just a moment, she was free.

 

 

 

Alicent heart jumped from her chest when she heard the pounds against her door. Her neck was stiffened when she rose from her chair. Her eyes cringed seeing the sun rise through her balcony.

  
Barely dawn, she thought. She heard the metal clink against each other from behind her door. The loud pounding, the only thing she wondered was why the Kingsguard had awoken her for.

  
Quickly she grabbed hold of her lime robe tying it tightly. against her night gown when she greeted the men. When she opened her door, Her Criston Cole stood waiting for her.

  
“Forgive me your Grace, but this Servant brings news you must here.” She sighed being awoken for this. The bells hadn’t been touch and she already knew what they spoke of before they even finished.

  
Someone has died.

 

 

  
The scent had begun to seep into the room. They all expected her to weep and fall to the ground in morning. She had no need for that, what she needed was for time to stop.

  
Alicent looked down to the body of what was her husband, old and dead. His plump chest had sunk and what used to be pink skin had sagged to a cold grey. He looked peaceful and untouched, but his years til now were nothing than gasps, hacks, and aching joints.

  
The servant explained, sweating and stuttering how he had found him like that. They all spoke of a peaceful death while Alicent just stood silent. She just wanted to get out of the rotting stench of her husband’s room.

  
“We must ring the bells. Send ravens to Dragonstone, we must send word of this to Princess Rhaenyra.” Alicent raised her hand to hush them. She felt the thought in her mind race so fast, the thoughts in her mind planning so far ahead to all came out.

  
“Ser Criston, take him to the Black Cells. Not a word of this leaves the room.” Soon enough her words became orders. She marched out of the room quickly, only hearing the pleads of the servant as he was dragged out.

  
She felt like running, her heart thumped so fast it might stop. Her father had rushed across the hall to meet her, but she found him. “Father, call a meeting of the Small Council. No one enters or leaves the Keep, I want no bells rung, no ravens sent. I don’t even want anyone touching a bloody ink or parchment.”

  
He nodded back following her and unable to understand. “Of course, but what must I say the meaning of this meeting?”

  
She stopped, turning back to her father. Alicent felt her mouth turn upwards into a grin.

  
“It’s time we crown our new King.”

 

 

  
Idiots, Alicent was surrounded in a room full of idiots. None of them could grasp the fact it was the time of a new again, and soon a new King.

  
"My Lords, we must all remember a son comes before a daughter! Rhaenyra's whole line is full of savage, Strong bastards. Let's not forget about her husband, The Rogue Prince! Why go down a line of trouble, when we have a son and legitimate heirs who were meant for this."

  
Her father went on praising them. His rants weren't helping, they still wore simple looks on their faces. The Small Council wore their green cloaks, but she wondered where their loyalty was when they stood here waiting for it.

  
"Your Grace forgive me, but the matter is settled. King Viserys had all the lords of Westeros swear fealty to Princess Rhaenyra." Maester Orwyle objected meekly in his seat.

  
"Yes Grand Maester, you are right. I too remember some, I recall my husband given milk of the poppy during that time, his poor mind dazed and foggy as he made these decisions. Shall I continue?” She waited for a reply but he sat silent once again.

  
Suddenly, Ser Criston Cole pounded his chainmail arm against the Black table that shined red. "A son comes before a daughter. It's quite simple." Someone finally understood, she thought.

  
Another stood, Lord Lyman Beesbury with a puffy red face. Alicent could remember why he even sat on the Small Council. Surely there were better choices for master of coin than a man almost eighty years.

  
"I'll hear no more of this. You cannot bully us into naming Prince Aegon; a whoremonger, lazy, gluttonous man child. I will have no part of treason!"

  
When Lord Lywman stood, Alicent saw hands drag his neck back till it almost snapped. She could see the golden armor pull the dagger from his side, slicing his throat. His head hung by a thread along his neck.

  
Ser Criston stepped forward wiping the blood off the blade. He looked at the rest of the men, waiting for them to object. Alicent turned to see their faces sweating and looking down at their hands.

  
Alicent gave a sly smile, looking at the blood dripping across the table. “Oh Ser Criston, what would I do without you?”

 

 

  
When Alicent swiftly glided through the halls, when she drew closer to her son's room, she smelled a sweet perfume. Quickly, she pushed the doors open so loud the ground rumbled.

  
She walked in seeing her son lying on his bed with nothing but a bed sheet covering himself. Before he could speak or do anything Alicent had him hold his tongue so she could say her words.

  
"Whichever whore may be hiding, please leave. I have a matter to discuss with my son. Run back to your brothel now." It was silent for a moment, soon she heard footsteps creeping out from the curtains.

  
She stared up at the ceiling as the girl collected her clothes. Alicent could see the fine silk across her dress and the scent of sweet perfumes. Her look of embarrassment she had running out the room showed she had some dignity to lose.

  
"Must you whore out your sister's, also your wife's Ladies?" She sighed staring at the door as Aegon grab a robe. When she finally turned her oldest son laid back on his feather bed of silk sheets.

  
"We did our duty, I have an heir, Helaena's happy with her little whelps. What must I do to have something pleasant in mine? Now mother, what have I done to be gifted with your intrusion?"

  
Alicent rolled her eyes. How could her son be like this, she thought. Everything she had done for her children, they deny it all. Little did they know what was coming for them.

  
It's time my son." She knocked the cup of wine out of his hand to grab his attention. He scuffed and his eyes circled the room looking for something to entertain him as she tried to speak.

  
"Time for what, just say it already." She grabbed hold of his cheeks almost breaks skin with her skins. She almost didn't want to stop seeing his selfish little face just wasting and whoring away. Alicent finally took her breath releasing his face.

  
"Your birth rite.”

 

 

  
By the time the returned to his chambers, her husband was now a rotting corpse. The curtains were closed tightly, not letting anyone know of it. The sun had risen and it's rad had made the room sweltering. She just wanted to be out of there and get on with it.

  
Aegon looked down at Viserys quiet, doing nothing but watching as if he'll rise from the dead. She waited patiently for him, beside Ser Criston. The Lord a Commander stood still as well, she wondered how he could do nothing but that all day.

  
Finally he turned, not looking at either of them just striding away. “What do you want me for? Go fetch my sister, she’s the one that wants the bloody chair.” Alicent bit her tongue when she her the phrase "sister."

  
"Do not tell me I raised a naive son such as yourself. Loyal you may, but your half sister will return it with taking your head." He chuckled at her, Aegon was blinded by blood to see what Rhaenyra would truly do to them all.

  
He sighed shaking his head. The thought of a kinslaying was ridiculous, little did her son know the depth of this rivalry. Aegon poured himself another cup of wine, but was stopped by golden armor pulling his attention.

  
“Forgive me my Prince, but you have always been and will be a threat to Princess Rhaenyra as long as you live. You are the true born son of a King with heirs to go on. Yours and you children’s death will be wanted from Rhaenyra to keep her claim to the Iron Throne.”

  
Her son finally stopped his drinking rubbing his temples and sighing. Ser Criston’s words seem to persuade him, more than Alicent’s gestures had. Of course she would never tell him that.

  
Aegon turned to her with a pouty look on his face. “What do I have to do?” Alicent sighed with relief. Without knowing, her face went numb. She couldn't control what her muscles were doing, just give in to them. When she turned to the mirror, her reflection showed a grinning, uncontrollable smile across her face.

 

 

  
Alicent once heard a fool’s story of the names of their courts as “The Blacks and the Greens.” Apparently it had started from a feast that began from the color of Alicent and her step daughter’s gowns. It had already gone long enough, she might as well give them the show they wanted.

  
One of her ladies had pulled from her wardrobe a silk emerald that had a golden glow when the sun touched it. Along with it, came a black cloak with gold lace sewn around the edges. On the back was her son's personal sigil, a golden three headed dragon. Lastly and least, she had to grace herself with a black laced veil to show the world she was a “widow.”

  
She wanted to show them all, her house stood together. Alicent planned by doing that with many shades of green. She waited on the steps to glimpse of the dark cloud of Vhagar coming down from the sky.

  
Servants who walked with her back away as beast landed on the pavements outside the Red Keep. She saw the blue sapphire sparkling in the sun. Her son’s hair flowed to his shoulders when he slid off Vhagar.

  
While Alicent greeted Aemond, he gave a small raise of his lips. That was all they could ever get out of him. Aemond may not have been a cheerful soul, but he was fierce and twice as bold as his brothers. She found to love that in her son most.

  
"The bells are ringing. Is my brother King or must we bow to the whore on Dragonstone?” She didn't even get a greeting, Aemond's faced had a look of rage pulsing rough him. Alicent supposed he had been waiting long for this, all she had to do was look at the sapphire where his eye was supposed to be and know it.

  
"We will my son, but we must wait. Wait for their first move and we decide how this shall go. First we start with showing them the true King." He sighed and cursed under his breath as he turned back to servants.

  
"Well are you just going to stand there?!" Aemon screamed at the feebly minded servants as he threw his metal helmet at them to prepare him for the Dragonpit. Alicent snapped her fingers when they brought out a forest green cloak sewn with gold thread.

  
Soon enough, she saw the Blue Queen lower down to the grounds. Alicent could see the black velvet wrapped around Daeron for mourning his father. She could hear Aemond scuff at the sight of his youngest brother.

  
When Tessarion landed, he jumped to the ground. Daeron’s face her with puffy, red eyes, when he faced her. Her youngest son was the gentle child of her litter. She remembered him reading with maesters and loved by the court, but he was as daring as his brothers.

  
Once she gathers her two sons, they waited outside for their future King and Queen. The carriages were draped in black and a gold dragon on the back. All of it had happened overnite, the banners, colors, even the new shade of dragon.

  
The doors creaked when Kingsguard came escorting the pair. Helaena’s wide set dress flowed as she nervously walked down the steps. She tugged on her fingers when she stood to wait for the carriage. Alicent placed her palm on her daughter’s hand, she felt her shaking hands stop as they wheels stopped to pick them up.

 

  
The horses trotted through Fleabottom and it was filled with silence. They heard the bells, a King has died and they looked through the carriages to see who would rule them now. Those who caught a look inside eyes widened, they clearly didn’t see Rhaenyra. Just green.

  
Alicent barely knew the name of the streets they crossed through, but they all knew her. Though she did recall one, the Street of Silk. She remembered hearing Viserys sending guards for his brother, the Lord of Fleabottom himself and dragging him back to the Red Keep.

  
The people matched the name, she thought. Alicent could see girls in sheer, silk dresses as men gazed at them. Brothels filled the alleys and every house down the streets, practically begging a man with full pockets to walk through their doors.

  
One house, or brothel Alicent might say, she caught eyes with their guests and workers. She could see through the windows wide open to get rid of the smell of scent in the pillow house. All eyes were on them.

  
Gold cloaks filled the room, they laughed, drank, with whores on their laps. Their smiles were crushed like a sinking ship when they caught eyes with the carriage. They stood, grasping their hips, probably craving Alicent and her children's blood on their blades.

  
If she had gotten her way, Alicent would have had all of them hung along the walls of the Red Keep. The officers knew their place, and who to bow to. The common guards though held their loyalty tightly to their former captain, her brother by marriage Daemon Targaryen himself.

  
A Pale stranger with silver hair caught eyes with Alicent. She had a solemn, frozen face, her eyes didn't stare away, she wanted Alicent to watch her. The girl pulled from a pocket in her white gown acting as if she was a septa, a rolled up piece of paper with a milky white worm for a seal.

  
Another gold cloak came from behind her, he slipped the paper into his hands and when the crowds began to fill the cracks of the street, they were both gone. Alicent could have called for her guards to grab them both, but there was no reason. Let Rhaenyra find out, for all of Westeros will know the true heir soon enough.

 

 

  
The crowd was waiting at the Dragonpit for them, their eyes creeping inside of the carriage for a look at who would rule them all. Aemond stepped out first, he grasped his longsword at his side looking at the people as he held out his hand for Alicent.

  
Soon came Daeron, then Helaena and the children, finally Aegon came to greet them. She could tell by their looks some were confused, waiting for Rhaenyra herself, and others had no shock in them at all.

  
The bells rung throughout the city, they knew what it meant. Now they all just stood and waited for someone to make the first move. Alicent stepped in front, stiffened her shoulders and strided along the steps.

  
“You all hear the bells! Your King has passed, now another may sit the thrown. A son! Aegon, Second of his name, first born son of King Viserys himself. My son, the true heir to the Seven Kingdoms. Your King.”

  
Aegon stepped forward an kneeled before Ser Criston. The Lord Commander gently lifted the dark circlet of Valyrian steel. Like the conquerer before him, the rubies shined along the band when it sat on her son’s head.

  
“I now Proclaim Aegon of the House Targaryen, Second of his name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms.” Ser Criston’s voice echoed off the walls of the Dragonpit.

  
When Aegon rose, they all kneeled to him. Even Alicent herself, her son was King. Ser Criston stood for a moment. “Long may he reign!”

  
They all followed his words, one after another. Even the dragons cried from behind in the Dragonpits.

  
“LONG MAY HE REIGN!”


	2. Long May She Reign

**I HAVE RETURNED, with a new chapter!!! Hoped you liked the last one, more to come. Give me a comment and tell me what you think. X**

  
Lucerys:

  
He focused on the rain, tapping along the stained glass windows. He wanted to be brave and strong like the rest in his family, with dragons and stories about Luke that could last a thousand years. He tried, but he sat alone, wiping away his tears.

  
His mother’s screams echoed through the halls except in the one spot he found. His mother, the princess Rhaenyra collapsed with blood staining her velvet gown at the dinner table with Luke and his family doing nothing but watch.

  
It all went to so much panic that Lucerys couldn’t tell what had happened, his mother had six children including the one in her belly. She wasn’t frail, she was strong, but she still screamed in pain and fell like any other.

  
Before, while they sat talking, Ser Steffon, his grandfather’s kingsguard came running with soaked clothes kneeling before his mother. Luke had been at the end watching them speak, he couldn’t hear only seeing the looks across their faces.

  
Luke looked back to the windows watching the waves crash against the rocks, he could see his own reflection in the blue glass. He saw mud brown hair, and a round pug nose. They called him and his brothers Strongs and perhaps he was.

  
His parents had been born with the silver hair as the rest of his family, yet there was nothing to compare to Luke. He heard sniggers and whispers, even his mother’s brother Aemond always tried to remind him of how they were three “Strong boys.”

  
He liked the Seadragon Tower, all his life he had. It was shaped into a grey stoned dragon, looking out across the water. It made him think of Luke and his brothers. For they were Velaryons, but with blood of the dragon.

  
Luke would run and climb the twisted and narrow stairs to the tower, and he would always win their games, when his brothers chased after him and couldn’t reach the top where one could climb up to the highest balcony and see all of Dragonstone.

  
He found much peace above the balconies, no one to find him or speak much when he wanted to be alone. That was until he heard little footsteps walk through the hall.  
He leaned back against the rails to see who was coming. Half the candles were blown out because no servants had thought to light them again this high, but he caught a glimpse. Her slightly annoying voice echoed out to him.

  
“Lucerys, please come down now.” She said politely, but demanding. That was always Rhaena, he thought. He slid down off the window sill, steadying his feet onto the stair case below. He walked down the grey steps to greet his cousin, or betrothed as his mother had mentioned before.

  
“What is it Rhaena?” He waited for her answer, wanting to be left alone. She rolled her eyes at him with her hands full of eggs each as big as her head.

  
“Why are you crying?” She lifted her hand to point out to the his red eyes. Luke swatted her hand away from his face.

  
“I was not.” He said proudly. He could hear her sighs as she saw through his lie. Luke could see her start to bend down and sit below next to him. The eggs began to slip through her fingers and she tossed them into Luke’s arms for help.

  
“Are you worried for your mother?” Rhaena started to pester him with more questions. Luke had four brothers, and no sisters until his mother had wed his own uncle Daemon and he had brought his own daughters along. Now, Luke had Rhaena and Baela to play the part.

  
“I am not- Why do you think.. What are you doing with so many eggs?!” He changed the subject away from his mother. She could tell what he was doing, but Rhaena let it go and babbled away.

  
“Syrax laid another clutch. I got to have more, and when they hatch I can meet all of them and see which will be mine.” She smiled happily looking down at all of her eggs. Luke couldn’t deny she had a sort of prettiness to her, but no one needed to know he thought that.

  
He could see what her eagerness was for with the eggs. Her sister’s had hatched in the cradle and spent everyday with her own, while Rhaena was left with her sickly hatchling that died hours after it had been born. Now, she had more eggs, and more chances to get a dragon of her own.

  
When she went on talking from then, but Luke had stopped listening. He kept thinking of his mother, how he himself is a coward hiding while she could be dying. He caught Rhaena staring at him, with a worried look to her.

  
“Everywhere in the world, mothers have babes. Sometimes they arrive early, but we have a Maester here. She’s probably fine.” She shrugged her shoulders, with a calmed look as she ran her fingers through the scales and swirls of her eggs.

  
“What happened to your mother?” He asked meekly. Luke couldn’t even remember Laena Velaryon, he assumed she looked like Rhaena. He still couldn’t put a face to the name.

  
Rhaena wouldn’t look up at him when she spoke, she just kept her head down looking back at her eggs. “She died... in the birthing bed with my brother.” She said simply.

  
He would’ve made a bigger reaction to why she mentioned his mother would be okay, when she lost her own the same way, but he saw a change in her. Her bubbly self simmered, and smile had died down.

  
“Do you remember her?” He asked trying to fix what he had started. She shrugged slightly. Luke could see her head rise up thinking. Rhaena looked back ahead of them at the wall.

  
“I remember Vhagar landing and her running to greet us, and her hair... It was like mine, but longer and curls that I would put my fingers through.” He saw her smile light up at the wall almost imaging her mother standing in front of them.

  
“I can't remember her much, but I remember when they told me she died. I don't know why I would, we were so young but I remember servants telling us our mother was gone.” She turned her head back done to distract herself.

  
“What about your father?” Luke questioned where he had been in her story. He had forgotten he was talking about her mother, he regretted asking but she gave an answer back.

  
“He left, very soon. I remember seeing Caraxes fly out to the water and they didn't come back. He was gone for so long I had forgotten him, until your mother brought us down to greet some tall man in a gold cloak and she said “Your father’s return, he's missed you two terribly. Go and give him hugs.”

  
Luke saw Rhaena undistracted focused clearly on her words turning to him. “He left us, why would a father do that to his children?” She asked him truthfully. He didn't answer, just squeezing her hand tightly until he felt their palms sweat as they were together.

  
“Daemon was probably sad.” He Admitted. “She was his wife, and she was gone.” She turned back to him with mad eyes at his answer.

  
“Yes, she was his wife.” Rhaena admitted, her violet eyes turned to a blazing fury. “But she was my mother, and I didn't leave, I don't care if I was little I wanted to leave.”

  
“But I still forgive my father, because he is himself and I could never hate him.” She blurted out. Luke thought to question the truth of her words, but he wouldn’t be the one to do it.

  
“I hope your mother lives.” Rhaena spoke a such a soft and serene voice it could have you forget what she had spoke of before. “No one deserves to lose one.” She bit her lower small rosy lip, when she spoke quietly.

  
Luke didn’t notice he still held her hand during this time. He didn't plan on letting go, until he heard the doors slam open in the hall to get their attention.

  
“LUCERYS…. RHAENA!” They both jumped up when they heard him yell out to them, and they both recalled his voice. His feet dragged across the floor, his boots scraped against the floor and the footsteps grew closer and his gold cloak gleamed in the light.

  
The loud and almost terror of his voice had softened to a small chuckle in a matter of seconds. Luke could hear Daemon’s pace into a cool, and soft glide across the floor. He stopped in front of them, leaning his back against the wall.

  
“What are you doing?” His uncle asked so calming like a different person with a smile. He never saw reason people saw his uncle as dangerous, but Luke could see the little touch of fear he brought to others.

  
“Showing Lucerys Syrax’s eggs.” Rhaena sounded like a meek child when she spoke. If his eyes were closed, he probably couldn't even tell it was her voice. Daemon smiled warmly reaching to an egg out of Rhaena’s hands.

  
“This one will be yours, I can tell. When it hatches, you’ll fly higher and faster than even Lucerys. And when you two wed, you can will show your own children how to be dragonriders.” Luke felt his cheeks redden when he heard him. Daemon had managed to bring fear, serenity, and embarrassment to Luke all in one with his voice.

  
He could see the smirk that grew on Daemon’s face watching the awkward tension he had brought on between them. “Bring those back to your chambers now, Rhaena. Rhaenyra is resting, she’ll need your help though. We've all been ordered to the Stone Drum tower.”

  
He jumped up hearing his mother was alive. Rhaena had already started walking back when Luke followed to join her until he felt a pull back at his shoulder. “Not you, you don't want to see that. You’ll thank me when you have your own children with Rhaena.”

  
Luke scuffed at his uncle always pushing his betrothal on them. Daemon could see the look on his face from hearing him. “Do I irritate you with that? Sorry.” Daemon said briefly.

  
Still, he continued on. “But you two will marry. It’s been decided for some time.” Daemon reminded him.

  
“I want to see my mother. Where is she, why can’t I see her now?” Luke stopped his uncle from saying more. He had started pacing through the hall, as Daemon laid back against the wall with his hands crossed just staring at him.

  
“Why won’t you just answer me?” Luke didn’t know how loud he had been yelling to him until his words echoed through the room. Daemon sighed standing back on his own two feet, pulling Luke by the shoulders in front of him.

  
“Your mother is resting, she is well as can be... But your sister, has died.” He didn’t know what he meant until Lucerys could see the stiffened face harden when mentioning of a sister.

  
“Sometimes, when children are born, they don’t wake.. But your mother was awake, and she still lost a child. So she will not see anyone now.” Luke’s cheeks reddened seeing the mess he had made with his words.

  
“You were it’s- her” Luke corrected himself, he had a sister. “She was your daughter, and she died.. I’m sorry.” Daemon patted his shoulder no grief on his face.

  
“You didn’t know, this is something I don’t weep for. Vengeance is something to crave when it comes to these matters.” Daemon spoke with wrath in his voice, but Luke was quite confused.

  
“You said she never woke, would you seek your vengeance from the Gods for this? Whose fault would it be?” Luke asked. He was still Daemon, he thought. He would inflict his revenge on a Maester for not doing something right.

  
“Oh no, my boy, not the Gods. Someone wanted to hurt your mother, they hurt her so, that the child in her belly had fought out to seek the same vengeance.” He could see rage in Daemon’s eyes, the violet shade had turned dark like a ship sinking in the storm.

  
Still, Luke was confused. “I don't understand.. Who-” Daemon stopped him from finishing.

  
“Your grandfather, my brother has died.. And those traitorous whores who Viserys had called family; the bitch Alicent, the one eye bastard Aemond, and Aegon...” He heard the sigh and grit of his uncle’s teeth while he spoke.

  
Daemon had let go of the tight grip on Luke’s shoulders to catch his breath calmly. He could see his face change from a madman to a merciful and noble knight. “Aegon has named himself King, which was your mother’s, you and your brothers, our birthrite. Do you understand now Lucerys, what they did destroyed your mother that she was sent to the birthing bed too soon.”

  
He heard his words, but they had not sunk in for quite long. No one had mentioned his grandfather dying. Luke didn’t understand why family would take away what was truly theirs. “Are you certain, how do you know it’s true?”

  
He saw the pause in Daemon’s anger, how he gripped the small paper in his hand and pursued his lips before speaking. “An.. Old friend. A friend like the rest of the people in King’s Landing, who knew that your mother, princess Rhaenyra was the true heir.”

  
Luke stared off to the water, he remembered they stood in the Sea Dragon tower. He had the blood of the dragon, they may have saw Luke as just a boy of four and ten, but he would be much more than that.

  
“What will happen now?” He asked, knowing before Daemon had answered.

  
His uncle wore the small grin when he said it. “They stole it, now we take it back; with fire and blood.”

 

  
Luke had stopped in the Hall, gasping the walls from all the flights of stairs to the stop floor of the Stone Drum. When he reached the doors to chamber, he ran like a boy excited for what was to come. Until, he felt a pull back.

  
“No, none of that. You’re almost a man, this will be practice for you someday.” Daemon had caught up with him again on their way to the council meetings. He didn’t know how, when his uncle had not been the young knight he was long before Luke could remember.

  
He had him calm himself and look as presentable as he could be with the black leathers and fixing the silver seahorse broach his Lord father Laenor had once worn, when he had been young and living.

  
“This is a council meeting. If you are truly my blood nephew, then you will suffer the painful bore of waiting for the real fights to come.” Luke could see Daemon stiffen his back grasping the sword to his side, the valyrian steel blade gave him the drive to be the rogue that his uncle ever was.

  
When they walked through the doors of his chamber, Luke stepped into a room full of eyes on them. “We’ve been waiting for quite some time, Daemon. Must you pass your timing onto Lucerys?” Corlys, his grandfather from his father’s side had his arms crossed with annoyance at his uncle’s stride of confidence.

  
But Luke wasn't listening. “Mother.” He called out. His mother had greeted him with the small smile across her sorrow face. She cupped his face with a kind hand as she stared off with red, puffy eyes.

  
Luke turned back to see his eldest brother Jacaerys pull him back to stand beside him and his brothers. He could see Daemon step forward to take his place laying his hand on his Lady mother’s own while she sat.

  
He could see the quiver in her lips as she began to speak. “She was my only daughter, and they killed her.. They stole my crown, and murdered my daughter, and they shall answer for it.” Luke looked at the sadness across her as Daemon with some form of comfort with squeezing her hand tighter.

  
“Daemon, how can we even know if this is true.. Your.. Confidant’s letters seem to have us confused.” His grandmother Rhaenys spoke with a soothing touch to the situation.

  
Luke could see his mother roll her eyes with fury tossing her cup against the wall with thick, milky white syrup dripping to the ground. “You mean his former whore.” She spat.

  
“She has no title of whore or foe, only loyal.” His mother ripped her hand away from his uncle. Daemon sighed and pulled the letter to his face as he looked it over. Luke thought back to this friend his uncle had mentioned before.

  
“She’s one of the few I trust utterly, and smarter than most. You’d know it you looked deeper into this letter. “ He read the letter aloud.

  
“My dear mother, misery is cast upon King’s Landing with this sweltering heat. Though the ceremony for our dear King Aegon as we stood outside the Dragonpit to watch him crowned in sight of the seven, after the passing of King Visery brought joy we haven’t had in many moons.. Mayhaps the Gods will bring us Black clouds of rain to drown out the song of the four dragons in the dragonpit. I hope you return with a letter soon. As always your loving daughter, Mysaria.”

  
Luke didn't understand most of it, like the rest of them. Daemon looked around at them waving the paper. “If Aegon’s men had gotten ahold of this, they would see no treason in writing about their dear King. Now I ask, do you any of you know what she meant?” He asked them, wanting to know who had the mind to see through what seemed to be a letter to family.

  
“The dragons..” Jace muttered next to him. “She said four, she’s telling you the numbers, their strength.” His brother had excitement in his voice as he spoke. Jace always was the one to get it right, for they all saw him as the eldest and heir to the Iron Throne. He had to be perfect, Luke thought.

  
Daemon chuckled as he nodded his head to his older brother. “Hard to believe he’s not my son.. Yes Jacaerys, they have four dragons.” Daemon seemed to become bored of doing all the speaking, Luke noticed he seemed to only speak to defend his old friend as he called her.

  
Daemon laid back on his chair with his feet stretched onto the painted table. He noticed his grandfather had rolled his eyes, and pushed them off the map of the seven, when his grandmother Rhaenys had stepped forward. “But we have more.” She pointed out to Dragonstone.

  
“Ours are larger, and your boys Rhaenyra, their dragons are larger enough to carry them now. Dragons thrive on the island, they grow bigger as long as Dragonstone stands.” They called Rhaenys the Queen who never was in King’s Landing, for she had been a choice for the throne between his own grandfather Viserys long ago. Now looking at her, his grandmother spoke like a true queen.

  
Rhaenys spoke more of the dragons who had no riders, they had been ones who lost riders, or the ones no one had been able to tame. Like his father Laenor’s dragon Seasmoke, the dragon has found his own lair to stay in for the rest of his days.

  
Luke was always told to leave them be. If he would not bother them, then they would do the same his mother always told him. “Find more riders, and that is how we shall win this war.”

  
Each of the Lords in the room had bickered with one another over how his mother would actually rule. Some had mentioned burning King’s Landing to ash, but even Daemon had disagreed.

  
“Your forget Aegon has dragons, and we do still have only five riders. It will be five against four with Vhagar as one of the four.” Luke had almost forgotten Vhagar until his uncle reminded them, the dragon was the last of Aegon and his sister’s dragons. Vhagar’s size and age would have the fight of three dragons.

  
Daemon continued to silence the room. “Dragons kill dragons, and I will not throw away ours against a usurper unless we have no other choice. These beasts have better ways to be of use.” Then there was the smile, Luke thought. The smile that only Daemon Targaryen could wear, with his troublesome eyes.

  
His mother stopped Daemon with a pull of her arm. “Let us fight this war with words, not battles just yet.” Luke could hear the Maester scribbling away on his papers at the end of the table.

  
“Tyrells will be no help, they’re of the Reach just as Alicent and her father are. Tyland Lannister is on Aegon’s small council, Casterly Rock will not join us.” Daemon stretched his arm across the table tossing aside the lion and flower pieces on map.

  
Corlys stepped up beside Daemon. “It won’t matter, Tyrell and Lannister have no power on sea. They’ll be defenseless against my own fleet.” Luke’s grandfather, Corlys Velaryon or the Seasnake as he was called had the largest fleet in Westeros, and there he laid his ships at his mother’s feet.

  
“I would never force you to join my cause Corlys, never risk all you had built for your own family. I may not be able to repay you in this if we truly go to war.” His mother had worried eyes as she spoke truthfully to his grandfather.

  
“My Lady, you were my son’s wife, my daughter by marriage. You gave me three grandsons, no matter what vicious rumors people may say, they are my blood. For I see my son Laenor in them everyday.” He could see a look of pride as Corlys stared back at Jace, Luke, and Joffrey.

  
“Though Laenor is gone, and you seem to have found another choice of husband.” Luke chuckled as Corlys looked back at Daemon with annoyance, while his stepfather or uncle as he was both, had a sinister smile waving back happily at the Seasnake.

  
“No matter the man, you are still my family. I don't ask for you to repay me, for I remember Viserys having all the Lords of Westeros swear fealty to you as his heir. And I mean to keep my promises.” Corlys bowed before her as did the rest of them in the council chambers.

  
“Then the matter is settled.” He heard them calling for servants. One of them handed his grandfather’s crown, the golden band with seven simple gems in the center into Daemon’s hands as he stood before Luke’s mother.

  
“Rhaenyra Targaryen, first of your name, I crown you Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms.” When he finished, Daemon had first to kneel before her. For when he fell, they all did.

  
“Long may you reign.” He spoke in a smooth settling voice that had brought all in the room to a stop. He could see the bite of his mother's lip as her swollen face lit up with pride.

  
“LONG MAY SHE REIGN!”


	3. An Eye for an Eye

**Hiya readers, I'm BACK! Enjoy and tell me what you think! X**

  
Lucerys:

He stood outside of the doors with his head pressed against the wood. Once his mother was crowned, there was no celebration. No time for anything, soon all the Lords who had fell to his mother’s feet were quickly escorted out of the small council meetings, even Luke.

  
Luke was fourteen, but they saw him as a boy still. That title meant he was stuck with his younger brothers. “We could go to the stables, Arrax and Tyraxes are big enough now, we could race them.” Joffrey went on with plans to ease his boredom.

  
“Stormcloud looks big enough too, we should all race to Driftmark.” Aegon agreed beside him, lying on the ground. Luke didn’t answer either of them, he tried to block them out to try and listen in on the meetings.

  
“We could do that as well. If you chose to wake up and hatch one day!” Viserys kept arguing with himself, Luke didn’t bother to ask why. His youngest brother was nine, he just assumed he was imaging things.

  
“Who are you talking to?” Aegon asked. They went on talking on, loudly Luke added. Instead of shutting their mouths, Viserys told them he was talking to his egg. He had been holding it since he could walk, waiting for his own egg to hatch.

  
Aegon chuckled at Viserys, causing them to bicker loud enough to block out whatever was happening in the chambers. Luke shoved them apart to stop their simple arguing. He could hear Joffrey’s laughter chiming in at them.

  
Instead of giving them reason to talk more, he ignored them. “Why do you care what they’re talking about?” Joff asked him. He sighed and gave up trying to hear through the doors. Instead Luke would pace through the hall, waiting.

  
“I was trying to hear what they were all saying, since they won’t let me in.” He grumbled kicking one boot with the other. Luke might now have cared as much if Jace hadn’t been allowed in. His brother was barely a year older, but it didn’t matter to them.

  
“Why would you want to be in there? We’re still children, we should be childish before we’re old and they send us off to war to fight.” Luke shrugged, not answering Viserys who was off in his own place with his egg.

Luke sighed, he was tired of waiting. He could hear the dragons singing in the stables, it was Arrax. He could always tell when it was him.

  
Perhaps he would ride with Arrax again, it had been some time. His thoughts turned back to the door that had kept Luke out, until the split of the wooden blockade slid open to greet them.

  
“What are you doing?” Jace had a confused look at his brothers sprawled out on the floor. “Never mind.. Come Luke we need you.” He felt the pull of his arm to join him back in the Painted Table chambers.

  
Luke stopped and turned back to his brother. “They want me in there?” He asked. Jace chuckled at him. “They were weary to say yes, but I convinced them. Mother says I’m Prince of Dragonstone now, so it won’t matter what the other Lords call us. You’re my brother.”

 

 

  
The room was half empty, all the small Lords and bannermen had quickly left and only his family had stayed. “Lucerys! You’ve finally joined us in this grand party, come my boy sit as we all can’’t wait for what Corlys has to say!” Daemon greeted him with a smile to see the look on his grandfather’s face of disgust.

  
“Once in you life, could you take something serious?” Corlys pushed aside Daemon’s feet off the painted table, pushing little ship figures. “Put a sword in my hand and tell me where to go. I don’t need to wait here while you play with your toys.” His uncle had a look of mischief.

  
“If you can’t keep quiet, then leave.” His mother ordered, her glares stared back at him with fire. Her eyes were red almost burning as if she hadn’t slept in weeks. Her belly was still swollen as she laid in her chair gripping the arms till her nails had dug into the wood.

  
Daemon had a worried look staring at his wife, Luke was the only one to see his face change as he saw her. Still, he was silent. “Perhaps we fight this war with words first, if her grace permits it.” He spoke in an uneasy voice of annoyance at them, but they all agreed.

  
They all spoke of bannermen and houses so small Luke had never heard of them. Until Rhaenys stood sliding the dragon figure farther south on the map. “Storm’s End will stand with us.” He had almost forgotten his grandmother was a Baratheon.

  
“Lord Boremund was one of my closest friends before he passed. His son will side with us if he knows loyalty.” Luke wondered to himself if it were him in the present Lord Baratheon, whether he would side with friends, or fear threats from King’s Landing.

  
“House Arryn as well, the Maid of the Vale, Jeyne Arryn would never turn you away. Rhaenyra is part Arryn from her mother’s side after all.” Daemon spoke up, with Jace chuckling beside him.

  
“Doesn’t she hate you?” His brother tried badly to hide his laughter to their uncle. “All of the Vale can’t stand Daemon.” Corlys joined in on the chuckles as he spoke. Luke didn’t get the joke, neither did Daemon from what he could tell with the rolling of his eyes.

  
“Why does she hate him?” Luke asked. Jace grew closer to him in a whisper. “When Daemon was married to his first wife, he used to call her his bronze—“

  
“Yes Jacaerys, I am not loved well in the Vale, but the Arryn woman would never turn your mother away. She is the first born child and a woman as well, siding with Aegon would be taking away her own claim to the Eyrie.” Daemon’s words were like swords, the laughter stopped when they heard his logic.

  
His mother chimed in, breaking her silence. “Even with the Velaryon fleet, the Greyjoys have the same strength at the sea. They haven’t chosen a side in this.” Her eyes had no emotion to them, just violet stones.

  
“They call the Greyjoy boy the Red Kraken, he loves blood, battle. We won’t need him, yet. If Aegon stays in his place, then this will hopefully only be a war of ravens.” Luke was surprised by Daemon, he would never turn down a fight.

  
“We have friends in the Riverlands.” He told them. “Thought none would show their colors so early, we need a place to gather. Large enough to hold a host, and strong enough to hold against whatever forces the usurper can against us.”

  
“There.” His grandfather pointed. “Harrenhal.” Corlys told them. Daemon agreed for once, that had been the first they had gotten along all day.

  
And so they decided, his uncle would take Harrenhal. Daemon promised it as a gift to Luke’s mother while she stayed on Dragonstone toregain her strength. He commanded the Maester to keep scribbling away with four messages to Riverrrun, the Eyrie, Pyke, and Storm’s End.

Jace stepped forward, Luke joined him. “We should be the one to deliver these messages.” His brother roared, but their mother struck back with rejection faster than they could think.

  
His brother tried to explain, but their Queen mother wouldn’t listen. Luke fell to one knee beside her seat, he stood at the same height as she sat. He cupped her hand softly assuring her. “Dragons will win this war faster than ravens, mother. We’re men, close enough to be them we should bear these messages.”

  
She bit her lip. “They would be envoys, Rhaenyra. I had caused a rebellion or five by the time I was Jace’s age.” Daemon agreed with them, causing her mother to bite back with venom in her voice. “And how many times were you almost killed, before my father had gotten you out of your troubles?”

  
He shrugged his shoulders with a sigh. “Yes there were risks, but we’re Targaryens. When men see Caraxes fly over, they go silent and pray for mercy from their Gods. Do you not remember each of your three boys’ eggs hatch and out came the same as our own?”

  
She pressed her hand to her head as they begged and bickered. “I do remember their eggs hatching. Because it was not long ago that they did, they can barely fly with them on their backs.” But his mother was wrong, Luke thought. Arrax could hold him, just enough but he was still a dragon rider.

  
“Our uncles calls us Strongs, and claim we are bastards, but when the Lords see us on dragonback they will know that for a lie. Only Targaryens ride dragons.” Of course Jace’s regal words had convinced his mother, Luke thought.

  
Even Joffrey had spoken of joining them, but their mother forbade him. “You two will go as messengers, you will take part in no fighting.” They promised, but she wouldn’t have it. Not until she had the seven pointed star was brought out, and they laid their hands swearing not to fight.

  
She was weary, but their mother had consented. Jace would be sent to the Eyrie, White Harbor, and then Winterfell. Luke would only go to Storm’s End. They were still only a year apart, but Luke was younger and a shorter journey would be “safer” as they told him.

 

 

Their mother had a true coronation the next day. Luke saw some of it before they began to leave. Hundreds gathered around to see her, the reigning Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen Queen of the Andals and the First Men they called her.

  
As his stepfather, being husband to his mother, Daemon claimed the title Protector of the Realm. He had a pleased look to himself finally getting a title of his own, he always went on about deserving.

  
And Jace, his brother could not have childhood nicknames now, for he stood beside their mother with a hardened look on his face. She named him Jacaerys Velaryon, Prince of Dragonstone, and heir to the Iron Throne.

  
His brother wore a disguise around the people, he was meant to be a hero, a tall, perfect knight that all the girls would swoon over. He was not a Jacaerys, his name was Jace, Luke thought wanting to correct them.

  
Jace was his brother, not a crowned Prince. He was a tall, giggling oaf with a lazy smile and a mop of brown muddy hair. Girls did love him though, even though he could barely talk to them with his cheeks always blushing when near one. Except Baela, for Jace loved that girl, Luke remembered.

  
He only thought of her for a moment and she had already appeared beside him on the beach. “Tried to leave without saying goodbye, now did we?” Baela asked and answered for him. She hooked their arms together as they watched the ceremony.

  
Luke stared at her for a moment, she may have been Rhaena’s twin, but he saw nothing of the sort. It didn’t matter that they shared the same silver hair and lilac eyes like their whole family had, except Luke and his brothers, they were completely different.

  
Baela wore her hair half up with dramatic braids wrapped tightly and twisted around her head, with the other half laying still and untouched down her back to show off the long silver locks. She almost dressed like a boy to Luke with her black leather riding pants to match her blood red bodice and three headed dragon emblem on it.

  
Unlike her sister, Rhaena’s hair was worn down and she wore her simple gowns in light, happy colors. It was simple, but pure and sweet; like her. Baela was fire, blazing but quick to burn someone, but Rhaena was sunlight, warm with a certain glow to her heart.

  
Luke jumped out of his thoughts to join his conversation with Baela. “Why aren’t you down with the rest of them. Rhaena’s down there.” He pointed down across to her sister smiling sincerely watching the crowning of his mother.

  
“I was down there, but I left with my father. He went off to the stables where Caraxes was, he’s left for Harrenhal. He told me I’m to stay here and run Dragonstone while your mother heals and you two are away.” She had a pleased look hearing her own words.

  
Baela always had the hungry look in her eyes for some power. That had a flicker of greed in them, but she was quite bad about being hard and ferocious like Daemon. She wanted so hard to be her father’s daughter, but she was still soft and kind; barely and mostly to Jace, but there was some warmth in her.

  
The silence grew awkward between the two of them, so Luke decided to have broken it. “Did you say farewell to Jace?” He asked trying to keep a straight face, but he could feel the laughter fall out of his mouth.

  
She punched him, hard across the side of his arm. He felt the throbbing afterwards all from her small and dainty fists, but Baela fought harder than most of Luke’s brothers. “Just as much as you did to Rhaena.” She said causing Luke to smile.

  
She pull his arm as they walked along the shore to the stables. “Come now little Luke, we have a long way to Storm’s End.” He stopped her at the we in his step sister’s words.

  
“A joke.” She promised. “I would never put you through that horror of you and I traveling together.” She was right though, Luke thought. Daemon always told him he was lucky that he was betrothed to Rhaena, and Jace to Baela.

  
“She’s a dragon.” Daemon said. “You should never try to tame them or you’ll burn, let Jace deal with Baela’s fire.”

  
They walked along sand, beside the gaping black boulders that had been all over Dragonstone. The Maester said it was frozen fire, but it was cold and sparkly, nothing like it. Luke felt the sand squish on his boots on the beach while Baela was high above him climbing the rocks, one step over the other like a balance board.

  
When they reached the cliffs, Luke felt the fresh air blow through his face. The grass that had been left uncut had grown to his knees and brushed his boots. Baela had ran to the edge like a little girl again, waiting.

  
Luke jumped when the flap of Moondancer’s wings had cracked right next to his ears. He felt the dragon’s warm air breathing on his neck. He turned to see her, the pale green scales on her slender frame with her horns and wings a bright pearl like the moon.

  
Smoke was fuming from Moondancer’s nose as she watched Luke, until Baela pushed him aside to greet her dragon. She practically jumped on Moondancer with a hug. He could see the settle in its eyes when seeing her rider.

  
Luke reached out his hand to have Moondancer’s trust. Baela swatted his hand away like a bug. “Don’t touch her!” She proclaimed. “She doesn’t like... Men.” He could tell Baela’s dragon had saw their bickering, she wore a snarl in her teeth.

  
He would not fear them, he was blood of the dragon. They could try to eat him whole, but his last day wouldn’t be today, he thought. It was the beginning of much more.

  
Even when Moondancers breath heated against him, he was frozen. Only the wind had knocked him over slightly when Arrax swooped down to the ground, screeching viciously when Moondancer had approached him.

  
Luke patted him gently, feeling the warm scales against his skin. His back ached from the saddle he carried on his back. He pulled the leathers down and tossed them onto Arrax.

  
When he tightened the final buckles, Luke stood there waiting for Jace. They decided that they would fly off together, but Luke and Baela waited as the grey clouds began to spread. It smelled like rain, he thought. He couldn’t describe the scent, but he could tell it was coming.

  
Luke shrugged, as they stood longer and longer. “They’re probably holding him back for some useless reason as he’s the heir.” Baela scuffed, growing impatient waiting for him. His brother and Baela had been betrothed since they were four and two, and had been smitten with each since forever.

  
He sighed shrugging his shoulders, and Luke climbed onto Arrax’s back. He tightened the straps across his legs, wherever Arrax moved, he would move now. He pulled the reins out to the water as they went off.

  
“I’ll see Jace when I return, tell my mother Storm’s End will be hers.” Luke put on a slight show acting like the conqueror himself as they left. He saw the roll of Baela’s eyes before she walked off, and Luke flew.

 

 

The rain poured hard against his back over the water. It was cold and harsh, Luke’s hands stung gripping the reins as Arrax stumbled from the Storm. He was right about the rain before, but that word had been a joke to the disaster that they flew in.

  
The sky shook with thunder and struck like a slap against a face when the lightning hit. He could tell Arrax struggled, but he was swift and fast, they would make it, he thought. Luke rubbed the water out of his eyes to see the rocks below them. When they flew closer, there was no sea below them, just ground.

  
Arrax has leapt down to the cliff, Luke had practically slid out of his saddle from the rain greasing it like oil. He felt the ground shake from the rumble of thunder most like it, guards stopped in almost terror from the sound.

  
The weather wouldn’t matter to him, instead Luke clutched his mother’s letter in his palms tightly, to keep it from getting wet. Guards escorted him inside, he could hear Arrax quail as he walked through the doors.

  
He would be back soon, he wanted to tell him. But Luke just followed to the end of the hall with large wooden doors with the stag carved into the wall.

  
Luke was shaking the rain out of his hair, when he heard the laugh. The sick laugh he had hated when they visited his grandfather in King’s Landing. And Aemond hated him as well with the sapphire in his eye to prove it.

  
“Look at this sad creature, my Lord.” His half uncle said standing beside Lord Baratheon with his small household watching. “Little Luke Strong.” Aemond hissed like a viper spewing venom. “You’re wet, bastard. Is it raining or did you piss yourself in fear?”

  
Luke would ignore him. Instead he only clutched the letter, pressing his fingernails in his hands till he could feel skin break. He was Lucerys Velaryon, and he would address his true name to the Baratheons only.

  
“Lord Borros, I have brought you a message from my mother, the queen.” Aemond scuffed at Luke’s words. “The whore of Dragonstone he means.” Luke wanted to finish what he had started with when they were little, but he wouldn’t let one eyed Aemond soil his manners.

  
He tried to tempt him, truly. Aemond strode forward, trying to snatch the letter from Luke’s hands. He shoved him away, hard. Luke could see the anger in his eyes, but he didn’t matter to him.

  
Before Aemond could come back at him, the guards pushed them away, Luke handed the letter to a knight who had brought it to where the Lord of Storm’s End sat.

  
As the maester read it to him, Luke mentioned where his loyalties stood, for how his grandmother Rhaenys shared his blood. Aemond just stared at him, gripping the sword at his hip.

  
Luke noticed the scowl on the Lord’s face as he stroked his beard. “And if I do as your mother bids, which one of my daughters will you marry, boy?” He pointed his hands to the four girls stand beside him. “Pick one.” He said.

  
He didn’t answer quickly, all Luke could do was blush. “My Lord, I am not free to marry. I am betrothed to my cousin Rhaena.” He said briefly, as Aemond stood against the wall watching him with a sinister grin across his face.

  
“I thought so as much.” Lord Borros grumbled. Then his eyes turned back to Luke and pointed to the door. “Go home, pup, and tell the bitch your mother that the Lord of Storm’s End is not a dog that she can whistle up at need to set against her foes.”

  
Luke said nothing, he only nodded and bowed as he turned away. He would not beg or command, he only thought of how he would tell his mother how he failed her. And then Aemond called him by that name again..

  
“Hold Strong.” He called out pulling out his sword. Luke would not stand down to him. But he promised his mother to not fight. “I will not fight you. I came here as an envoy, not a knight.”

  
Aemond laughed at him. “You came here as a craven and a traitor.” Aemond announced. Guards pulled them away again before Luke spoke one last time to him.

  
People saw Aemond as fierce and cruel, but Luke still remembered where his scars hid inside him; For it was Luke who did it. He never planned on it, they were boys. Aemond challenged him and his brothers, and Luke remembered standing over him pulling out the blade he had gotten for his nameday, and throwing the last draw into his eye.

  
“Strong or not, you’re not worth the fight Aemond. You’re nothing to me, one eye or both. You’re worthless.” Luke gasped his breath as he tried to hide his smile from him as they walked away. He heard the fuming roar as Aemond tried to pull away from the guards.

  
“I will have your life, Strong!” He roared. Lord Borros stopped him in his breath. “Not here,” he grumbled. “He came an envoy. I want no blood shed beneath my roof.” Luke caught one last glimpse of Aemond’s rage as he walked through the doors of the round hall.

 

 

His grandfather had mentioned his tales at sea, the main reason for Corlys being called the Seasnake because of his ships. He once told Luke and his brothers about the eye of the storm. He never understood it, where the eye was supposed to be when a storm couldn’t even have a face.

  
But now he knew it.

  
Thunder rolled across the castle, the rain fell in blinding sheets, and from time to time great bolts of blue-white lightning lit the world as bright as day. Arrax still managed to stay aloft, he struggled but he was still strong to carry Luke’s weight.

  
The wind was pushing them back, but they could make it. Luke could soon see Storm’s End turn into a shadow. She looked like a black cloud when they flew over them, Luke could only truly catch a glimpse of Vhagar when she came charging down on them.

  
He tried to show Arrax the way out, he truly did. His heart was racing so fast, the rain pouring down he could barely see. Luke could only hear their screams and felt the push and clawing between them.

  
Vhagar’s flames almost blinded him, the wind knocking him back off Arrax’s back. Luke was dangling by the straps on his legs as they fought. He heard Arrax’s final cry, and Luke could see through the rain clearly, their two dragons locked together, and could only hear a tear of skin.

  
He felt like they were flying, but this was different. Luke couldn’t think it was all happening at once. As they dropped, he choked on the rush of air. The smell of seawater coming closer and closer, Luke grasped Arrax as they went down and he could only feel the thick, warm tingling feeling.

  
He could only catch one last glimpse, where Arrax’s neck had been left with nothing but blood leaking from where his head had been; before they it all went crashing down.

 

The water hit like stone, Luke could feel his bones ache, the water brushing him away. The waves pushed him back and forth on and on, seawater pouring down his throat. He pulled himself up for air, but his legs wouldn’t work.

  
They dragged him under, like stones tied to his feet. That’s when he knew it was Arrax’s body pulling him down. Luke dove under to look for the straps of the saddle on his legs, he felt the wet leather when he tried to untie the knots.

  
He bursted up again for air, before he could even see it, the waves threw him across the bay. The water tossed and dragged him until the rocks pulled him to a stop. Luke felt one, just one thud to his head, like the crack of an egg.

  
He felt no pain, from that moment it all went by so slow. The tide pushing him back, Arrax’s lifeless body pulling, his head just trickling, he couldn’t tell whether it was blood or just more water. Luke could see one thing beneath the bay, red.

  
He fluttered his eyes for a moment, but somehow his eyes were through with him. His arms as well, not muscle in his body felt like moving. And so he stopped, Luke stopped everything, and let the waves carry him.

 

 

The Rogue Prince:

He watched the flames drink away the letter. How the paper crinkled up black, and charred as the ink dried up. He would not stand to get a new sheet, he was Protector of the Realm, he was Daemon Taragryen; let the servants do it for him.

  
The maester scurried over like a grey rat, he grew to hate them over the years. They were too curious, he couldn’t trust any of them, they acted as if they were Gods when none he had ever met could save ones he was close to.

  
He did not know what he was supposed to do. Perhaps it was the grief kicking in, he never knew how to respond to such matters.

  
For Aegon, his youngest brother who had died of a chill when they were boys, Daemon believed that was when he began fighting, when his grandfather the Old King Jaehaerys put Dark Sister in his hands. Laena, she was different than others. His bronze bitch was a cold creature of a first wife, but Laena Velaryon was quite the opposite.

  
She had been the mother of his daughters, and died birthing a stillborn son. Daemon wouldn’t call it grief when she died. For he went on Caraxes to Fleabottom on a drunken rampage on the Street of Silk. He barely remembered any of that time, only a bucket of his own making and many cups of wine surrounding him, with Misery stroking the top of his head.

  
By the time his older brother had died not a fortnight before, Daemon only shrugged. He and Viserys had been close once, it didn’t last though. His brother took away what had been a breath of fresh air for him long ago, and his heart hardened then after for his brother.

  
But this, this time was quite different, Daemon thought. The usurpers who had been family, barely he recalled, had taken one of his one.

  
“Vhagar had been spotted at Storm’s End, we can confirm that it was Aemond who killed Prince Lucerys.” His loyal riverlords stood beside him as he lied back against the chairs. They must’ve thought he was mad when Daemon began to laugh.

  
Lord Blackwood kneeled beside him with a stern look. “Say the word, and we will march on the Stormlands, let the country burn until justice is served. Send for the rest of the riders on Dragonstone, and we will burn King’s Landing with the usurpers in their Red Keep.”

  
He shook his head quickly to the rivermen, he finally decided to put words to his clean sheet. “An eye for an eye, a son for a son. Lucerys shall be avenged.” The words seemed fitting for what they had done to Daemon.

  
“They killed my son.” He told them even though the whole room had known of this. “He was not mine by blood, but I raised that boy and his brothers. We all know what Laenor was, a pillow biter through and through, he never had an interest in being a father to Rhaenyra’s boys.”

  
Luke was on the edge of boyhood, he hadn’t even been a man. His mother would never see his face again, Rhaenyra would be broken to pieces by now, he thought. “They killed my son.” He said it again.

  
“Can any of you imagine the pain they’ve brought to my house?” They gave a shrug of their shoulders. “I want them to feel the same, of what they did. All of them, I don’t care if Aemond drew the blow, Aegon, Alicent, they all started this by stealing my wife’s crown.”

  
Daemon knew where he would bring this form of pain, but he could not do it from where he stood. When he was young, his brother put him in charge of commanding a weak group of men to keep him out of the way, but he had quite enjoyed his time in the City Watch.

  
He was almost fifty, and was not a twenty year old Commander of the Gold Cloaks anymore. Daemon had known the rat pits and festered in the shadows and knew every corner of the city. But that was so very long ago.

  
While he had been raised up and flew off to Dragonstone, the same people he was once closest to still roamed the city. Unlike Daemon, they still lived among the lowest parts of Fleabottom. High or low, even on the green council he had allies all throughout King’s Landing.

  
He stood up striding along the ruined hall of Harrenhal. “I don’t mean to burn the city to the ground. My mind may change later of course, but not now.” He told them.

  
“We want vengeance, I want the whole green court to be full of tears and cry in agony when I’m done with them.” He gave a smirk just thinking of their pain. “What I need is too large beyond any of your lords control, and only one person can bring this to me.”

  
“So I must go find her..” Daemon handed the note to the maester, demanding the fastest raven to carry it to Dragonstone. To let Rhaenyra know Aegon’s pain will be as much as she is feeling now.

  
As he turned back to his confused riverlords, a thought snapped into his head. “Show me to your stables. I will need a horse, I haven’t ridden one in years.” He had never needed a one since Caraxes could hold him on his back.

  
“It would be a faster journey above dragonback, my Lord. Let them know the true prince is coming.” They insisted. Daemon shook his head as he straightend his gold cloak.

  
If Daemon would be returning to the capitol city, he would need to just be another commoner with a hood over his head. “Why, that’s quite the point. They will not know I’m coming.” He told them with a sinister grin for what was to come.


End file.
